beautiful.

"You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you."
-Frederick Buechner

inconceivably dear

"You are inconceivably, irresistibly dear." 

-Irish Storyteller, sharing his grandmother's words

Last night my family (all 6 of us, miracle of miracles!) attended an Irish Christmas event at a local Redding, California theater.  Beautiful is a fitting description for the evening.

The artists danced, sang, played beautiful instruments and told stories, all things that get my heart wild, connecting me to something of my heritage, even if it is a distant connection.  The Irish know what it means to value a story, and they know how to celebrate.  What better way to prepare for the celebration of Christmas, the most breathtaking story in all the world?

As I think about stories lately, my thoughts often wander to eyes.  Which is strange, I guess, but in my own logic, there is a powerful linkage between a person's eyes (and hands), and their journey.  When I picture Jesus right now, His face is full of laughter and His eyes smile.  Maybe the writer of Little Drummer Boy saw that picture too when he penned "then He smiled at me," seeing a Savior whose eyes already held in them the destiny of what He would become, the kindness of a pure heart that would give its life out of love for friends. Eyes that would silently, yet loudly, communicate to each person who encountered them, "You are truly, deeply loved.  Inconceivably, irresistibly dear, worth my very life."  

And not only did His sight speak value, but His gaze contained the power to redeem.  Meant to change the chemistry of the eyes that stared back into His, taking all the stories of their journey, brokenness and all, fitting them into the beauty of being hidden inside of Him forever.

This Christmas, the prayer of my heart is for Jesus' gaze to capture my family, taking the brokenness of this last year and bringing it into His strong embrace.  We will see His goodness in the land of the living, where our eyes are full of laughter, smiling back at Him as He smiles at us.

"Reveal to these eyes the true heart of my Father...teach me how to pray."
-Jason Upton

random finds

I was looking through an old notebook for some important information when I discovered a random attempt at poetry I wrote a few years ago.  As cheesy and not well written as it may be, I found myself identifying with the prayer in the words...

I don't know how far I've traveled,
Or what the cost has been.
All I know is that You're beautiful
And I'd do it all again
Just to hear you call me friend

The way you rejoice over me
makes me come undone
I can't help but believe again
dream again

I don't want to walk away without being changed
I don't want to leave this place without knowing fully my own name.

Fractures Become Weapons in His Hands

This morning, the teacher of a class I am taking on providing aftercare for women coming out of human-trafficking, started talking about the fractures in our lives that develop as a result of trauma.  Extreme trauma will sometimes produce abnormal behavior patterns, which psychology has named schizophrenia, but with the Holy Spirit, the fractures can be healed and those who have been through hell on earth can actually become functional human beings.  It was an intense class, one that will break your heart because the stories are real.

Then came self reflection.  

After the class, I was sitting in a worship service, singing some of the most anointed songs ever written: Christmas songs.  As we were singing, God began to show me how specific events in my own life resulted in some fractures that often feel like fragmented story pieces which will never produce anything coherent. I've often viewed them as these parts that I just want to forget, even with the deep down desire to believe that God doesn't waste a thing.

As I worshipped, I saw a picture of all of the fragmented pieces being met by His love, where He took the fractures and suddenly there was wholeness, with each one having an important part to play in the making of who I am and what I carry.  And the Father didn't  just bring wholeness, but every single traumatic event that resulted in fracture actually became a weapon, accurate and powerful.  Like an arrow that hits its mark every time.  I saw God take everything that felt broken, and not only bring His wholeness but anoint the broken pieces so they could become a blessing.

And that's what He does every time, if we just let Him.  If we just offer up the pieces to Him, vulnerable and raw, and let Him cover and saturate them with His love.  He makes them a door of hope. A door that will become an invitation to others, inviting them into a story of healing and redemption--a living epistle of the Gospel.    

Just these two words He spoke
changed my life, 

"Enjoy Me."

What a burden I thought I was to carry--
a crucifix, as did He. 

Love once said to me, "I know a song, 
would you like to hear it?"

And laughter came from every brick in the street 
and from every pore
in the sky, 

After a night of prayer, He changed my life when 
He sang, 

"Enjoy Me." 


-Teresa of Avila

Forever Yes

There are days spent drawing lines in the sand,
"I will walk this way, I choose You.  Forever I'm Yours."

Simple prayers of surrender,  pledges of eternal allegiance.  They may seem brief, but those moments are an encounter, changing, defining, marking...shaping a history with God that no one and no thing can take away.  No one can steal the decisions of "yes" you've given to God, the times of counting the cost and knowing in your heart that you'll never be satisfied unless you risk it all.  Because you were made for love, and love craves after the promise of being fully alive, where the heart can no longer follow what is safe and familiar.

And when you draw that line and say yes to Jesus, to all that He is, you realize he's already said both a continual and final yes to your life before you drew your first breath.  Knitting you together in your mother's womb, dreaming about you before the start of what we understand to be time.  It was a yes.  A yes that heaven knows about and will fiercely protect.  A yes that heaven is backing up, whether we are aware of the support of the celestial or not.  A yes that dances and sings over your life because you are such a wonder, so needed in the writing of this story, so perfectly designed for this time in history.

To be like those who dream.  Who not only dream for our own lives, but dream for our generation, with the sort of faith that Joshua had, leading an entire people into the land of promise.  To be like those whose mouths are filled with laughter, hearts full of song, shamelessly boasting to the nations the greatness of our God.  And it's not because we memorized a few songs.  It's because we have a history with Him.  We've said yes to Him and watched how He's responded to surrender.  We know that He is real, alive, and so deeply in love with humanity that our lives can't help but broadcast that message.

Don't discount the lines you've drawn.  The times you've said yes.  The story is developing, and not one part of it is in vain.